


Pincushion

by HoneyGrunge



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Knifeplay, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Prostitution, Reader-Insert, Sadism, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: Arkham Asylum was the last place you expected to find yourself on a Tuesday night, but you needed the cash and Joker needed the pleasure.(No gendered pronouns are used to describe the reader. However, reader is referred to as pretty, called doll, etc. There is also breast play.)
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker (DCU)/You
Kudos: 29





	Pincushion

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the Batman RIP version of Joker. I love this version of him because he has major Eddie Gluskin and Richard Trager violent serial killer vibes. Plus him cutting his tongue in half was hot as fuck and it makes me feral.

Gotham truly came to life once the sun sank below the horizon. The town was upside down, teeming with life at dusk like any other city would thrive at dawn. Any sensible Gothamite knew to be indoors by this time. Although you were resourceful, you had to admit that you’d never been the most sensible person in your neighborhood, so unlike those people you now found yourself leaning against the cold brick wall of Jordi’s Donuts, bored and wondering when a job would finally come through.

“Y’know, you really suck at leavin’ your sides unguarded,” a man's familiar voice drawled too close for comfort. The thick scent of weed followed his voice by a split second, and you were only just turning your head when your fellow nightcrawler jabbed you in the side.

_ “Ow!  _ Fuck you, Mike,” you growled, throwing him a blackened glower of annoyance. “Nothing ever happens to me, I'm a small fry. I don’t  _ need  _ to guard my flanks.”

“Famous last words,” Mike mumbled with a dismissive shrug. “Anyways, you got any gigs yet?”

You sighed and squeezed your arms tighter around your chest. “Nope. All quiet tonight.”

Business was always booming in Gotham, but not for the likes of you. You weren’t exactly an experienced merc, you were more of a jack of all trades. A little thievery here, a little prostitution there; whatever got the money in your pocket to help cover your ass. Unfortunately, Tuesdays were always painfully slow, so now you were stuck here with this clumsy pothead who was even worse off than you. Still, could be worse. He hadn’t tried to shank you yet, and that pretty much made you two best friends in a place like this.

“Well, if you get too bored, Joker’s henchies are advertisin’ somethin’ down at Funland,” Mike said. He took a drag from his pitifully thin doobie and watched you with watery eyes. “They’re only lookin’ for certain types, apparently. Flat out laughed in my face when I asked for the details, said I was too ugly.”

“Probably sex,” you replied, stifling a grin and squinting at a car as it slowly rolled by. “I’ll go check it out, you stay here and uh, guard the corner.”

Mike snorted and coughed as you pushed away from the wall and started the trek to Funland. “If you come back and find my mangled corpse, it’s on you. I’m just a defenseless gas station employee.”

The wind bit into the skin of your face and tempted you to call it a night. But these jobs usually paid well, and if they didn’t, well, it wasn’t too hard to nick a wallet. Especially with Joker’s goons; some of those assholes probably couldn’t even count using their fingers. You were close to the piers so it took you all but five minutes to reach Funland, and it took more than a little self talk to not turn away at the sight of the place. The run-down theme park was even darker and more terrifying than it was when Joker was out of Arkham and enjoying his freedom here. You were just about to head for the main entrance when a man wearing a clown mask stepped out of the shadows.

“You here for the gig?” he grunted. You could feel his eyes raking over you as he spoke.

“Um, yeah. Do I fit the bill?”

“Mhm, y’look like his type. C’mon,” he said, turning and heading for the gaping clown’s maw that served as the compound’s front door.

You kept quiet as he led you through the dimly lit corridors, occasionally mumbling an apology - mostly to yourself - whenever you accidentally bumped into someone else in the dark and got an angry grumble in return. Eventually you were standing outside of a room; the man who had been leading you opened it and gestured for you to head inside.

“We got an applicant,” he called out. A man who looked fairly important was sitting at a rickety desk. He looked up from a pile of paperwork only to give you a quick once over and nodded.

“A’right, name ‘n bank account info please.”

You recited the information and watched as he punched it into his computer. It was useless to argue against giving them the information, all of the biggies used it to threaten past and present employees if they misbehaved.

“K, perfect. Here’s the deal: you’ll get the cash after the job’s done. Deets are: a goon’s gonna get you into Arkham and place you in Joker’s cell so he can ehhh, shall we say, burn off some steam. Capiche?”

Dumbfounded, you could only stare at him and nod. He made a dismissive movement with his hand and you felt the man in the clown mask take hold of your upper arm, steering you out of the room.

Joker?  _ The  _ Joker? Why didn’t he just bring Harley in for sex when he needed it? The man must’ve guessed what you were thinking because he glanced back at you and chuckled.

“Joker likes to sample Gotham’s goods, if you know what I mean. Harley isn’t into some of his more...interesting desires, so the task gets handed over to you people. Anyways, get yourself cleaned up and we’ll get you a costume. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  
  
  
  


The tray of medication rattled as you walked behind the disguised henchman. The ride here had been onerous; you just couldn’t help but feel nervous. What exactly had that man meant by  _ interesting  _ desires? Whatever it was, you were about to find out, and it’s not like you could drop the job after taking it. Joker hated that when it came to his jobs, and it usually ended with the quitter disappearing off the face of the earth. Whatever he had planned for you had to be better than whatever happened to those poor fucks.

You were deep in the isolation ward now, and had already wandered past the vaulted doors of Harvey Dent and Edward Nygma. It wasn’t much longer before you were standing outside of a door marked Jack Napier, which appeared to have a much more advanced set of hydraulic locks than the previous doors. Your escort stopped and started the process of gaining access, and when he was done he held out his hand for the tray and slipped you a small package.

“Give that to him and have fun,” he chuckled. A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes when you walked past him; you jumped when he slammed the door shut and locked you inside.

Joker was sitting in a plain chair that was bolted to the cement floor, dressed in a white straitjacket that didn’t even appear to be as white as the ivory of his bleached skin. He’d been slumped and staring at the floor when you’d entered, but now his head was lifted and sharp green eyes were watching you as you stood in the harsh light.

“You must be the new toy,” he said as the edges of his mouth twitched upwards into a small smile. His voice sounded as though he’d swallowed battery acid at some point in his life and then followed it up with an ice cold glass of bleach. He noticed your expression falter and frowned, pushing himself up and lurching out of the chair.

“Yet another gift from Batsy. It seems the acid wasn’t content to only ruin my skin and hair, swallowing it was like guzzling a mouthful of razor blades.”

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” was all you could manage. He grinned, displaying teeth that were stark yellow against his skin.

“Oh, don't call me sir, I'm not some white collar stick in the mud. And don’t be sorry! Being normal is so incredibly  _ boring,  _ don’t you think, doll?”

He was walking towards you now;  _ god  _ he was tall. You forced yourself to stay where you were instead of giving into the instinct to back up.

“Hmmmm, they did well this time, you’re a pretty one,” he whispered, finally stopping just as he was about to walk into you. “Don’t be shy, you can talk to me, pumpkin. Do you think I’m handsome?”

“Yes,” you replied, wondering if he would believe you. Of course anyone in this situation would say yes. But instead of laughing, he slowly smiled with his eyes locked onto yours.

“Oooooooh, what a treat! You really meant that, I could tell! Do you know why? Our pupils always betray us, and yours didn’t get a single millimeter bigger. I think we’ll have a lot of fun tonight, don’t you?” He leaned in as he said this, forcing you to shuffle backwards into the cold cement wall. Instead of waiting for an answer, he whirled around and flexed his shoulders in irritation.

“Would you be a dear and get this contraption off of me?”

The back of his milky white neck was now exposed to you and you felt a painfully strong urge to boldly lean forward on your tippy toes and lick that skin. You lingered on the edge of uncertainty for a moment before taking the risk and pushing against his back. He tensed and made a small noise of confusion; you leaned into him for support and dragged your tongue over his warm skin, up to the bottom of his slicked back green hair. As soon as your tongue met his neck, his tensed muscles relaxed and he rewarded you with a purring chuckle.

“My my, I’ve never had one quite as willing as  _ this one,”  _ he groaned. The disturbing implication lingered in the air but you didn’t care enough to worry about it. After tasting your fill of him you pulled away and fumbled with the buckles of his straitjacket, eventually loosening it enough for him to be able to unfold his arms and skillfully slip out of the restraints. His back was decorated with puckered pink scars and colorful bruises that stood in stark contrast to the shade of his skin, and when he turned around you discovered that his front wasn’t much different. His expression had taken on a hungry edge; he reached out and flicked the collar of your nurse uniform in disdain.

“Get this off before I have to rip it off you,” he snarled, and you hastened to obey after handing him the package. While you struggled out of your clothes Joker walked back to the chair and took a seat; you tried to be a little more sexy and graceful once you realized that he was watching you. When you were down to your bra and panties Joker held out his arm and beckoned you to him with one of his long fingers.

“Come sit on my lap, doll.”

You walked over slowly, turning and giving him a full view of the goods before spreading your legs to straddle his thighs and sit on his lap. You could feel his bulge pressing against your pussy when you settled down, and from the look on his face he  _ really  _ appreciated the stimulation.

His cool hands ghosted up your thighs, setting off goosebumps all over your body and sending a thrill through your nerves that ran from the tips of your toes all the way up to the top of your head. Now his hands were sliding up your belly and sides until he was cupping your breasts through the fabric of your bra. He reached back and unclipped it, impatiently waiting as you shimmied it off.

“Now  _ that’s  _ just what I needed,” he growled, taking you into his hands and squeezing tenderly until you moaned. Your nipples were hard against the palms of his hands, and then against the pads of his thumbs when he started rubbing small circles over them.

_ “Joker!”  _ you gasped as the movements went right down between your legs. You now found yourself shockingly needy and already slick against your panties. Joker pinched your left nipple just as he slipped his hand down between your legs to settle two fingers over your clit.

“You promise to be good for me tonight?” he whispered, rubbing your nipple between his fingers as he applied gentle, frustrating pressure to your bud. “Promise to let me cum in your sweet little pussy?”

“Yes, yes, I promise!” you groaned, now desperate for something,  _ anything  _ to be filling you, whether it be fingers, a tongue, or his cock. “I’ll do anything you want!”

“Oh, you don’t know just how happy I am to hear that,” he chuckled. His hand disappeared from your breast and a few seconds later something cold was pressing into your thigh. There was a sharp sting; you yelped, jerking away from the pain and staring wildly down to see what he’d done. He held a short switchblade in his hand - which you now realized had been the package - and there was a deep cut in your leg, dripping blood down your thigh and onto his white Arkham pants. His other arm was forcing you to stay in his lap, pinning you against his chest while he grinned madly and broke into peals of loud laughter that echoed off the walls of his isolation cell.

“Hushhhh, now, don’t you dare scream, or so help me I will slice you open from ear to ear and give you something to scream about,” he hissed with a glare of warning. “I promise to be a good boy, since you were so  _ very  _ sincere about finding me handsome. I always break my toys but I think a darling like you deserves a little TLC,” he said, running the side of the blade up your thigh and stopping when he reached your hip. He hooked the knife under the fabric of your panties and sliced it open, then reached over and repeated the move so he could pull them off of you. You were frozen, unsure of whether or not to trust him and more than a little terrified.

“Take my cock out,” he rasped, lifting the blade and licking it clean while you reached down with shaking hands to oblige him. You glanced up and he smiled. He licked a smudge of blood off of his lower lip and it was then that you realized his tongue was split clean down the middle. Not wanting to upset him by staring, you dropped your eyes and instead focused on undoing the ties of his pants. When you had them done, you pulled down the waistbands of both his pants and plain white briefs to bare his rigid cock to the cool air of the room. The sight of him, so painfully hard and hungry for you, was enough to kickstart your eagerness again. Maybe...this wouldn’t be so bad. As long as you did whatever he wanted.

“I’ll take your silence as a compliment,” he crowed, mostly to himself, before reaching up to give your left breast a rewarding squeeze.

“Harley’s a lucky woman,” you managed to breathe, sending him into another fit of raucous laughter. 

“Well, fortunately for you she likes to share her toys.”

Without warning, he roughly grabbed your bottom and forced you forward until his cock was trapped tightly against your bodies. He bit his lip and started grinding you down onto him, loosening his grip and groaning when you began to eagerly take over the movement for him. You might as well get as much pleasure as you could out of this, after all. After hooking your legs around the back of the chair, you slipped your arms up over his shoulders and nuzzled his ear.

“All I want is your dick, I’d  _ kill  _ to have it, I need you inside me tonight or I’ll lose my mind,” you softly admitted into his ear. You faltered on the word “mind” when you felt the cold metal of his knife pressing against the overheated skin of your forearm. The touch scared you senseless, but you kept your rocking steady against his hips. “Please….cut me again. Please.”

The cut stung even worse than the one on your thigh, and the warmth of the gush told you that he’d cut a bit deeper than last time. You felt his cock twitch and heard his breathing become slightly heavier; his hand on your ass was squeezing so hard he would surely leave a bruise. Next the knife was against the underside of your breast and the cut was so painful that you couldn’t help but stifle a small sob. Joker shuddered and leaned forward, biting so deep into the side of your neck that he broke the skin. He sucked until he was sure there would be a hickey, then pulled away and reached down to take hold of his cock. He rubbed it against your belly and hummed in approval when you lifted yourself and settled over him, wincing as you felt his cockhead stretch you.

“Go on, I don’t care how much it hurts,” he growled, forcing you to obey with both of his hands. He was too big for such an unprepared stretch; the brutal pain of it made you gasp while tears coursed over your cheeks.

“Goooood,” he purred when you finally bottomed out on him, shivering and fighting the urge to get him out of you as fast as possible. He bucked his hips and you bit your lip to keep from yelling out. Mercifully, he offered you a small distraction by leaning forward and working your nipple with his tongue, catching it between the split and triggering a sudden wave of pleasure.

“So tight,” he praised, lifting the knife to give you a matching cut on your other breast. You felt him twitch as the trickle of blood painted your skin then bled into the fabric of his thigh. While you attempted to meet his thrusts, he rewarded you by rolling your nipples between his fingers, alternating breasts and hands as he continued inflicting small wounds all over your body that began to morph into brisk, shallow stabs. You were starting to feel a little dizzy but the lightheadedness helped you find more pleasure in the pain. Soon you were meeting him thrust for thrust, moaning with your head hung limply back while he began to become more rough, practically bouncing you in his lap. His cock went  _ so  _ deep, filling you better than you’d ever been filled by a dick, and god the smug bastard knew it. He cackled breathlessly whenever you couldn’t help but echo your pleasure into the room, and soon his own groans were becoming louder as more of your blood became smeared onto his skin and clothes. He lunged forward and smashed his lips into yours, desperately slipping his tongue into your mouth and exploring your intact tongue with his own split one. After pulling away roughly, he gave you a twisted grin.

“Do you think you deserve to cum? Have you been good enough for it?” he demanded, ghosting his fingers over your clit and driving you nearly to madness.

_ “Please, fuck, please, please let me cum,”  _ you sobbed, desperate for your climax and to feel him cum deep inside of you.  _ “Pleeeeaaaase!” _

He applied more pressure and began rubbing, brow furrowing with pleasure when you spasmed around him in the beginnings of an orgasm and dug your nails into the back of his pale neck.

“Cum on me!”

_ “Ah, god! Joker!” _

You came so hard you saw stars, or maybe that was just from the blood loss. Joker swore as your pussy squeezed and massaged him, coaxing him into his own peak. Just as your orgasm began to mellow you felt a searing pain in your left shoulder, which exploded into agony when he twisted the blade. This blow sent him over his own edge and he bucked upwards so sharply he almost toppled you off of his lap. He was louder than you ever could’ve imagined, eyes rolling back and control disintegrating while he emptied himself into you. His face looked so pleasured he almost appeared to be in pain; he gasped from the overstimulation when you gave one last weak roll of your hips after he slumped against the chair.

“That’s what I call seven minutes in heaven,” he laughed breathlessly, tutting when you slipped off of his lap and onto the floor. His laughter and the flash of his slick green hair in the stark fluorescent light was the last thing you registered before you lost consciousness.

  
  
  
  


You woke up slowly, confused at your surroundings and struggling to process what had happened as well as the fact that you were alive. Blinking up at the ceiling then exploring the room with your eyes, you realized you were in a hospital bed, hooked up to a packed IV tower and bundled up in multiple hospital blankets to fend off the cold. The tv was on and a woman with too much hairspray in her hair was detailing Joker’s gory escape from the Asylum, which just so happended to coincide with your near death experience. A bouquet of roses and an envelope sat on the table next to your bed; you reached over to weakly pull the envelope off and open it. The only things inside were a decorative Joker card and what appeared to be a credit card, with the label “medical expenses” stuck onto it.

“How romantic,” you mused, wincing as you flipped the card over onto the table.

Maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter and Tumblr: Maedhros36
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! <333


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